


past, present and future

by The_angel_that_fell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Night Terrors, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:07:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14897747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_angel_that_fell/pseuds/The_angel_that_fell
Summary: Dean's fingers stroke lightly over Cas' back. He's asleep, side rising and falling slowly as he breathes in and out, in and out, in and out. His index finger runs over the unscarred back, and he thinks about the wings that had opened wide, the feathers brushing over his skin like an embrace. Now they're invisible. Cas always sleeps without a shirt, though, unlike Dean, and the exposed skin seems so vulnerable.Dean wakes up with nightmares, and it's up to Cas to help him.





	past, present and future

Dean's fingers stroke lightly over Cas' back. He's asleep, side rising and falling slowly as he breathes in and out, in and out, in and out. His index finger runs over the unscarred back, and he thinks about the wings that had opened wide, the feathers brushing over his skin like an embrace. Now they're invisible. Cas always sleeps without a shirt, though, unlike Dean, and the exposed skin seems so vulnerable.

He's unable to lie still, so he leaves off touching Cas and sits up, swings his legs over the side of the bed, and drags his hands through his hair. Anger and frustration makes him clench his fists, and the hair in his grip feels as if it's going to be ripped out his skull. 

 _Breathe._ It's Cas' voice, the voice that had soothed him through his last injury, when he had sewed up his shoulder carefully, gently, while they sat thigh to thigh, his heat seeping through Dean and warming him, and the memory feels alien, foreign, as if it is not his.  _Breathe,_ and he unclenches his fists, stands up and feels the cold of the floorboards ground him. He stalks through the bunker silently (he's not on a hunt but the quietness reassures him) and grabs the clear bottle.

He seats himself at the table and doesn't bother trying to find a glass. He downs a gulp and it burns in his mouth, scorches down his throat like a fresh wound and into his stomach. Another gulp. Another trail of fire. 

Dean doesn't even really know why he's drinking. He just knows that sometimes he wakes up with sweat on his forehead and a racing heart and blood in his mouth, and that if it were not for Cas in his bed he'd think he was back in Hell, learning the art of torture by the lessons being carved on his own skin. But the angel is there, so he can touch his skin and calm down before resorting to the bottle. He takes a longer sip this time and holds it in his mouth, waiting for the liquid to warm to his body heat before he swallows.

"Dean."

"Hey Cas," he says. "Did I wake you up?"

"No. The bed was cold."

Dean places the bottle down so quietly there's no noise as it touches the table, and steels himself to turn around. Before he can summon the courage, though, Cas speaks again.

"I told you to wake me if you had any more nightmares." 

"I didn't want to bother you," he returns, and Cas' hand lands on his shoulder.

"If I was screaming in fear every other night, what would you give to help me?"

"Anything," Dean says instantly, immediately, without even thinking about the trap he's walked straight into until the word is out of his mouth. He pushes the chair back on impulse, and Cas' blue eyes lock onto his. Damn him. The man had perfected the art of puppy eyes.

"I love you," he says. "This runs both ways."

"I love you too," Dean responds automatically, and stands up. "But I've got a lifetime of issues, and I don't want to burden you." 

Cas' expression softens and he moves forward to press a soft kiss to Dean's lips.

"You are not a burden," he says firmly but quietly, the words a brush of air onto his skin. Another kiss, on the corner of his mouth. "Never." Dean kisses him back now, one hand on the back of his neck, the other brushing his cheekbone. Cas encircles him with his arms and they stand still for a long, long moment, leaning into each other.

"Come to bed," Cas says gently. One hand grazes Dean's ribs, and he gives in.

 

They're lying on the bed, trading kisses. Cas is running his hand down over Dean's shoulder, dipping down into his waist, up over his hips, and his gaze is fixed on Dean, dropping from his eyes to his lips and back up again. Dean presses the length of his body flush up against him and Cas moans audibly as Dean's hard on grazes his own. 

"So fucking beautiful," Dean whispers, drops the words onto Cas' neck, bites and sucks and licks over the mark after he writhes lazily, grinding against him, and then he moves further down, and he helps him pull off his T-shirt, leaving his chest bare. Cas pins him on his back and Dean jerks as a warm mouth closes over his nipple. The hand not still on his ribs moves to the other one, teasing and pulling.

"Cas -uhh-" Words fail him for a moment as Cas flicks his nipple with his tongue and makes him lose his breath.

"Yes?" He lifts his head momentarily, sounding amused, and Dean changes his mind, shakes his head.

"Never mind, just keep doing that." 

He grins briefly, predatorily, and moves down Dean's body, kissing and licking at the exposed skin until he reaches Dean's tented boxers, and licks over the bulge. Dean arches his back, and he laughs, nuzzles against the fabric.  _Fuck,_ it's hot, Cas' mouth pressing against him, tongue darting out to taste him. Does he want him to beg, because Dean never begs in bed, and he's not starting now.

Then he ducks his head and bites at his thigh, licks a trail right up to his boxers, and he immediately forgets his morals.

"Cas, please, just fuck me-"

Blue eyes meet his own and he finally, finally, slides down his boxers and a hot mouth envelops him. Dean arches upwards into Cas and he takes it, bobs his head.

"So fucking good for me, sweetheart," he whispers, and Cas moans around his cock, like it's the best thing he's ever tasted, and Dean moans too, and then he pulls off to lick a long stripe up the underside before deep throating him fully, and Dean only lasts a few minutes before he's coming hard, and Cas is everywhere, on his skin and in his mouth, and the angel climbs up next to him.

"I love you," he says. Dean brushes a thumb over his cheekbone.

"I didn't get to take care of you."

"I didn't last long," Cas confesses, and Dean laughs and kisses him.

"Too hot for you, sunshine?"

"Something like that," he whispers. The hunter's eyes soften and they rest together, their breaths evening out.

"Do you think you can sleep now?" Cas asks, and Dean's eyes sparkle with mischief.

"I don't know, maybe we should try that again."

Cas smiles, and Dean's at peace.


End file.
